


Tipping Point

by Nununununu



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biting, Blindfolds, Body Worship, Consensual Sex, Frottage, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Neck Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:21:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29255133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: “I can walk,” Cobb gives him a momentarily sharp look, one that seems to point to the instinctive need to cover a soft underbelly, jaw set as if he’s tempted to leap up and prove it through sheer dogged stubbornness if nothing else, before making a visible choice to remain seated.“I’m not doubting you,” Sensing still bristling nerves, Din settles him further with a hand on his shoulder, an apology of his own of a sort, “I’m just wondering why you keep choosing to do so when it causes you pain.”An injury leftover from the battle with the krayt dragon leads to an opportunity for something more.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Comments: 18
Kudos: 190





	Tipping Point

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amiko/gifts).



> For the talented and lovely Amiko, inspired by her truly beautiful DinCobb [art](https://amikoroyaiart.tumblr.com) :D <333

“You’re drunk,” Din observes when Cobb staggers unexpectedly off to his side, lips quirking up just a little beneath his helmet at the other man’s uncharacteristically graceless movement.

“Nah, not even tipsy,” Cobb's as quick to right himself as he is to wave Din off, “Just a misstep, that’s all.” 

The kid’s fast asleep, watched over by a couple of Tuskens and their own little ones, and he’s allowed Cobb to persuade him into a cup of spotchka, aided by a straw Din untucks from a pouch and that the other man crows to see.

“So you just didn’t want to drink with me back then,” He seems only amused at his own expense rather than upset or inclined to tease, which frees Din up to just shrug as if either of them believe this truly had been the case and to slot the straw under the rim of the helmet, a little amused in return. Wondering when the marshal had become Vanth and then Cobb; wondering at the easiness of the smile creased into all the corners of the other man’s face and the smudges of tiredness and sand dust around Cobb’s eyes and his brow, a bit of dried blood from the battle on the hinge of his jaw.

He’d passed over the armour earlier easy enough and gone to hold his hand out to shake, and Din had realised he didn’t want to say goodbye, not quite yet. The kid had been hungry and his armour was disgusting, and the fact he could continue finding reasons to stay just that bit longer shouldn’t have been enough to persuade him.

“Oh, I been told to inform you if you _ain’t_ needing to jet off right away that Old Nora over there says she’s got a couple of stories about someone she’s reckoning might have been another Mandalorian from some years back now us folk here all know a bit more about yours,” Cobb had hooked his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing over to an old woman sitting near the group busy building up a fire and getting ready to cook a fairly ambitious amount of meat from the dragon. The child had whined in entreaty, tugging at a red sleeve, and Cobb had tickled his fingers lightly behind a pointed ear, resulting in a gurgling laugh from the little one, “Yeah, might just serve as bedtime tales and nothing more, but –” He’d looked back at Din, “It’s possible there might just be something in them, even if her mind does wander; she’s tried to tell me the tales before, years back, but in honesty they were too convoluted for me to make head or tails of at the time. Still now I’ve been reminded of them, I can see there might be a connection.” The press of his lips is an apology, “I should have thought of it myself – they might mean more to you and that’s what you came here looking for, right? Another Mandalorian?”

This shouldn’t have been the tipping point. But Din would’ve been a fool not to investigate when there could be weight in it and kriff knows, he’d had little else to go on so far. And judging by the look on Cobb’s face, the possibility the tales could refer to the original owner of the armour had dawned on him too.

“All right,” Din had said slowly, as such.

“All right,” Cobb had returned, and scooped the little one up obligingly when the child attempted to clamber into his arms, “Want me to see this one gets a bite while you get something for yourself and a bit of empty space to eat it in? Or do you want to speak to Old Nora first? Once she gets to talking, you ain’t going to get away for a good hour or so at least.”

It does take that long. A quick wipe down of his armour before Cobb introduces them to the old woman and her granddaughter, and the child eats while perched on Din’s knee with the promised grub the other man provides. Cobb’s mostly off in conversation elsewhere himself, reappearing occasionally to hand Din a bowl of what turns out to be bantha milk for the kid, later silently offering that cup of spotchka with a small twist to his lips that isn’t so much wry as it is a vow not to be offended if it goes promptly returned. A speeder piled with crates is being unloaded not far off, containing supplies for the impromptu feast someone had gone back to the cantina to collect, a number of Tuskens wandering over to look on in interest, both slightly surprised and gratified when offered a share.

Balancing the as yet untouched cup in the sand at his ankle after the kid climbs down his leg and wanders off to play, Din concentrates on listening to the old woman speak until both the suns are down and she finally runs out of things to say, closing her eyes and nodding off against her granddaughter’s shoulder almost before he can express his thanks. The younger woman just smiles faintly at him as if such a thing is expected and so Din nods to her in return, taking the spotchka with him as he heads off in search of the kid, finding him curled up happily asleep with the bunch of Tusken little ones.

“Reckon there could be anything to those old stories?” Cobb speaks over the lip of his own cup when Din next relocates the other man finishing up a careful conversation in a mix of what sounds like Jawa and Huttese with a couple of Tuskens at the fireside, considering seriously the wide sweeping gestures they make in reply, emphasised for his benefit and with only a few thankfully light-hearted moments of confusion on both sides.

“Perhaps,” In truth, the old woman’s tales had indeed been so full of meandering and half-remembered asides that it’s difficult to say, but they are something to think on and it doesn’t feel like the time had been wasted. And it had been a gift to have watched the child eat his fill and then find new friends to play with, besides.

“Right, I need to stretch my legs. Want to join me for a stroll? Could bring some of that meat and split up when you find somewhere you can eat,” Nodding a farewell to the Tuskens, Cobb gestures out towards the desert, away from the bones of the dragon and everyone at the fire, “Promise I won’t double back.”

“I’m not hungry, but I’ll walk with you,” After being inside the dragon himself, consuming it doesn’t particularly appeal. Din has gone without for far longer periods of time; so long as he has a ration bar or something in the morning, he’ll be fine. It’s not a question of doubting Cobb’s word so much as the fact that the other man’s company appeals far more than stepping away somewhere to eat.

Stepping away somewhere alone with Cobb on the other hand is more tempting than perhaps it rightly should be, this only confirmed when Cobb tips his head in both acceptance and invitation, and waits for Din to fall into step.

It only takes the first few metres up onto the fairly gentle slope of a dune however and his ankle once more gives out.

“Damn it,” Cobb sounds a little amused all over again, although Din’s hearing is sharp enough thanks to the enhanced audio receptors in his helmet to easily identify the way his breath catches first. He points a warding finger at Din, “Still ain’t drunk.”

“Then you’re hurt,” Din angles his helmet to better allow him to scan the other man’s face.

“I’m fine,” Is Cobb’s stalwart reply and so Din makes himself relent on a silent exhalation, turning his attention to the silence of the desert beyond the gathering of townsfolk and Tuskens as they resume their trek. Taking in the darkness once they pass around that dune and behind another, the light of the fire vanishing as if swallowed up by the sand.

Away from its orange glow, the desert is cold and seems very empty, and it’s difficult to make out Cobb’s expression through the added dark of the visor, the rest of him too. Through it, the other man’s a slender shadow against the vast backdrop of the night, something Din could change if he turned on the night vision the HUD can provide. He hesitates to do so, just considering Cobb for a moment instead, the way he seems simultaneously solid yet intangible, a presence that might dissipate into nothingness if Din were to reach out.

Still, the curl of heat he feels at the glint of the other man’s eyes is smoky and undeniable, a near palpable weight gathering in Din’s belly as Cobb notices the attention and turns to raise an eyebrow at him.

And promptly steps badly again, more so than before, enough to make him curse around gritted teeth, “ _Fuck_.”

“You _are_ injured,” Catching Cobb’s elbow without thinking, Din wraps a gloved hand around the other man’s arm to prop him up when he abruptly sags in something far too reluctant to be labelled defeat, blowing out a breath that sends fine strands of grey hair puffing upwards and then drifting back down over his forehead.

“Shouldn’t be bothering me,” His response is a mutter, not aimed at Din, “Damn it. Had far worse,” This latter part is; an explanation of sorts. He acquiesces as Din steers him into sitting down on the slope of the nearest dune, angling himself downwards with a muffled groan, “Just my ankle, nothing much.”

“Enough to trouble you _when you walk on it_ ,” If Din’s reply is pointed, he thinks he has the right.

“I can walk,” Cobb gives him a momentarily sharp look, one that seems to point to the instinctive need to cover a soft underbelly, jaw set as if he’s tempted to leap up and prove it through sheer dogged stubbornness if nothing else, before making a visible choice to remain seated.

“I’m not doubting you,” Sensing still bristling nerves, Din settles him further with a hand on his shoulder, an apology of his own of a sort, “I’m just wondering why you keep choosing to do so when it causes you pain.”

A snort and a “As if _you’ve_ let a busted ankle stop you before.” Cobb’s own hand goes to the back of his neck, tugging at that scarf of his with a sigh, “I needed a bit of space from all of everyone, if you got to know – and no, I’m not counting you in that, as I’m glad for your company; wouldn’t have asked else. And it’s only bothering me if I step on it wrong.”

“What are you –” Din cuts the question off as the fabric comes loose, the answer becoming evident as Cobb starts to arrange the material into a strip.

“Won’t take but a second,” His expression slants into something more rueful, “I’ll just bind it up and – I don’t know, guess I should head back.” A note of regret there he doesn’t bother to hide and something else, something he isn’t saying, “You go ahead and carry on.”

“I was following you,” Bringing his hand down from the man’s shoulder, Din pulls the scarf gently out of his grip, “Let me.” He drops to his knees between Cobb’s boots, wraps his fingers lightly around the injured leg, just beneath the other man’s knee. An unspoken question in the touch.

“If you want,” Cobb’s gaze goes intent. He holds himself nearly motionless as Din angles the boot undone and then off, keeping his own movements slow and steady, not wanting to cause any additional pain. Cobb still hisses under his breath as Din gets his foot free, but his shoulders don’t stiffen any further and his hands remain open at his sides – it seems entirely possible, though, that he is simply accustomed to not betraying signs of pain and that the stumbles were an anomaly, the other man not seeming one to usually give in.

“I’m sorry,” Din says as such as he runs fingers and thumb over that ankle, checking the injury for any sign of it needing greater attention than the intended wrapping, aware of Cobb’s attention on him still; of the way his uninjured leg tenses and then relaxes as if controlling an instinct – perhaps restraining the urge to kick or otherwise push Din away – a deliberate choice once again.

“Nothing for you to apologise for,” Cobb then proceeds to sit so still he barely seems to be breathing while Din wraps his ankle in the scarf, pulling the material tight to be sure it’s effective, wincing on the other man’s behalf inside the helmet. Cobb’s only reaction is to let out a silent breath when it’s done, before he seems to almost blink himself back into existence, “Much appreciated.”

“It’s no trouble,” Din stays like that for a moment longer, down on his knees, looking up at him through the visor. Prompted by the feel of Cobb’s gaze still on him in return and the proximity to enquire, “Is that everything?”

He keeps his tone deliberately neutral, but the way Cobb shifts makes it seem anything but, the long lines of the other man’s body appearing to at once ease and become almost inviting, tilting his unaffected knee a little to one side. Opening himself up that bit.

“Yeah, unless you’re offering to kiss it better,” His mouth crooks, furthering that sense of invitation, that hint of a dare, a hook to the corner of his lips set to reel Din in.

That effort at neutrality cracks and shatters, and for all part of Din considers that perhaps he should do, he doesn’t try to regain it. If this is where things are headed, well. He’s already committed to staying here for the night, complicit in his own delay given the fact he failed to collect the child and get back on that speeder the moment the old woman finished her tales. Already almost too caught up in the way Cobb looks in this moment, the other man sitting leaning over towards him with Din still in between his knees, feeling his body stir and start to come to life at the sight of him, the light from the first of the rising moons catching on Cobb’s brow and turning his hair into silver near fit to rival the beskar Din wears.

But here doesn’t have to mean _here_.

“Maybe I am,” Din therefore doesn’t keep the smirk from his voice, letting it sound clear enough that it translates through the modulator. A caveat though, “Not outside.”

“All right,” To his credit, it only takes Cobb a moment before he gets it and he refrains from the comment he seems about to make in return, that crook to his mouth widening into a delighted grin, “Going to tell me what you’re proposing, in that case?”

“Stay here,” Din answers in action more than words, straightening to a small cascade of sand tumbling from beskar plates. Moving increases his awareness of the chill to the night air and he tugs the cape off, holding it out until it’s accepted, “I won’t be long.”

“You know, I’ve survived at night out here plenty of times,” Cobb looks of half a mind to hand it back right away, even as his body betrays him by moving the cape closer to his chest, fingers lightly crumpling the material in their grip.

“That doesn’t mean you have to now,” On that Din slips away, heading back towards the fire to collect the speeder and the kid.

~*~

There’s no way he can conceal his approach and nor does he try to. Cobb’s up on his feet, weight tilted ever so slightly to one side in favour of the injured ankle, in a way that would be nearly indiscernible were it not for the boot in his hand. He’s also got Din’s cape slung over his shoulders, looking good enough in it that Din finds himself taking a second just to stare.

“So _that’s_ what you’re proposing,” Cobb seems amused if anything as he takes in the sleeping bundle of the child tucked safe and warm in the saddlebag that doubles as a sling and the way Din slides back on the seat to provide what space it’s possible to create for him, after tucking the boot into another bag for safekeeping, “Going to be a squeeze even if we both hold our breath, and one of us ain’t going to be able to see.”

“I’m prepared to reach around,” It takes only a little effort for Din to keep this deadpan, worth it for the surprise that flashes bright across Cobb’s face before he snorts with laughter.

“I’ll remember that.”

It takes a little work to get him situated despite determination on both their parts, given that injured ankle and the fact there very nearly isn’t enough room for two, even as slender as Cobb may be. The speeder ducks and bobs beneath them to make its protest known, Din shoving the handlebars temporarily up out of the way and steadying it with a braced knee, and then he’s got Cobb’s back very close to his chest and the other man’s slightly greater height blocking his view as promised. It’s less awkward than expected to adjust himself to look around him though, as Cobb shifts himself similarly in the opposite direction, and then Din’s starting the speeder back up, breathing through the fact that reaching forwards to do so has them more or less plastered together, Cobb making a small noise deep in his throat.

“If we crash, you know I’m holding you to blame,” is his comment to which Din can only chuckle, “Maybe should have done this the other way round.”

“You think so?” Tightening his knees around the other man’s hips, Din swallows a feeling of hot want mixed with not quite regret at the unfelt brush of the other man’s hair against the side of his helmet. Undeniable how he longs to feel it against his ungloved fingers; to his helmetless cheek. To bury his nose in it; his mouth brushing the nape of Cobb’s neck.

Just to feel the other man’s skin.

Not far now. Din flies fast, keeps them steady, keeps their direction true, and doesn’t take a hand off the controls to let it wander or to curve it over a thigh however much he wants to. Lets himself imagine sliding his palm over the flat plane of Cobb’s belly instead; thumbing open the other man’s belts. Slipping his hand into what meagre space this provides and finding heat trapped within. Of rubbing his palm between Cobb’s legs as they fly faster, coaxing him into leaning yet harder against him, the other man’s head tipped back against Din’s shoulder to show his throat.

Inhales sharply enough it’s clear that Cobb hears it. And –

Shit, Din shouldn’t be thinking of this here and now, not when the kid’s right behind them, asleep or not.

“You know, I’m being very good here and not wriggling back against you that bit more,” There’s a clear awareness of the kid’s presence in Cobb’s remark too, spoken lightly when he’s evidently itching to tease, “Tempted as I am to suggest that I drive.”

“Freeing up both my hands to –” Din stops that right there.

“To whatever you might happen to feel like doing,” One of Cobb’s hands settles on Din’s knee, refraining from doing more than giving a squeeze, “Nearly there now. That way.” His other hand shifts on top of Din’s.

“I thought you weren’t planning to drive,” Din adjusts their direction as guided even so, following the other man’s nudges with determined casualness, as if the feel of those fingers covering his knuckles and the hand on his knee doesn’t make him intently conscious of those two points – that and of the heat he’s certain he can feel from the other man’s body, soaking into Din through his flightsuit; through the gaps between beskar plates.

“Think you can tell I’m easy either way,” There’s no denying Cobb’s smirk as he says this; Din doesn’t need to see him to know. He just huffs a chuckle, nudges his shoulder lightly into the other man’s back in reprimand, and keeps an ear out for any sign of stirring from the direction of the saddlebag, undeniably relieved when they draw to a halt and the little one proves to be still fast asleep.

It seems unkind to disturb him; Din climbs a little awkwardly off the speeder, giving Cobb a telegraphed look through the helmet when he goes to do the same, and makes a point of maintaining eye contact – one-sided on Din’s part although Cobb comes very close – until the other man relents.

“I’m really not helpless,” He rotates the troublesome ankle with a frown for it rather than Din, “Walked on a broken leg for near on three hours once; ain’t much trouble at all for me to walk on this.”

“You can if you want,” Din watches his expression to ensure he understands the distinction, phrasing it plainly enough that the other man relents with a sigh that signally fails to contain any real protest, “But I’d like to help if you’ll let me.”

“You’d better be planning on carrying me too then,” Cobb aims that index finger of his at Din as he picks the child up gently out of the saddlebag.

“I am,” It’s a bluff Din’s more than willing to call him on.

“Guess I can bring myself to wait a few minutes then,” Not backing down either – and not appearing to want to – Cobb settles back down on the speeder, his tone now one of entirely false complaint.

Getting the kid settled onto the couch Din finds in the main room of the other man’s tiny house, he waits a moment to ensure there’s no stirring or protest, grateful that the little one seems to have both eaten well enough and tuckered himself out having fun playing to appear thoroughly out for the night and, given his lack of surfacing now, unlikely to rouse before dawn.

“Good night, kid,” The child’s already proved himself to be a sound sleeper the times he feels safe. Swallowing a knot of emotion, Din strokes the soft head, turns the light down lower, and then steps back outside.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” He finds Cobb huddled a bit into the cape, straightening back up on his return.

“Wouldn’t want to miss this for anything,” Winding his arms around Din’s shoulders with a grin, Cobb otherwise notably fails to help, bright eyed and breathing a little fast as Din gets him off the speeder and into his arms with care for that bad ankle, the other man’s long limbs proving an unintentionally humorous impediment when it comes to getting them both through the door.

“Shit, don’t let me wake the kid,” Cobb’s laughing helplessly against the crook of Din’s neck by the time Din gets them down the stairs and that door shut behind them, and just for that he carries the other man the rest of the way across the main room, turning into the short corridor beyond it when Cobb provides a nudge just like he did back on the speeder.

His knees and back are just starting to complain by the time he’s shouldering the door open to Cobb’s bedroom and depositing the man on the bed.

“All right?” Huffing a little as he bounces a bit at the impact, not enough to jar his ankle, Cobb asks.

“Yes,” Din looks around, spots a drawer and tips his head in askance, indulging in an idea that’s been growing in the back of his mind throughout all of this, “Do you have any more scarves?”

“Sure, got a bunch of them,” Cobb catches on just as quickly as he did before, interest flaring in his gaze as he nods his permission, “Even found where they’re kept.”

“Mm,” Sliding the drawer open a couple of inches to reveal the promised scarves, Din finds one a few tones darker than the original still wrapped around the other man’s ankle, “Favourite colour?” It feels a little redundant given the primary colour he’s seen in Cobb’s house has so far also been red, but there’s something appealing about hearing Cobb say it nevertheless, a piece of truth confirmed about him Din can tuck away to examine later, when he’s back in space, far away and remembering this. Aching at the memory –

No, he can’t think about that now.

“You know it,” Cobb looks tempted to ask such a question himself, but licks his lips instead, holding still as Din guides the impromptu blindfold as gently around his head as he might swaddle the child. The comparison ends there, though – he’s tugging a glove off with his teeth even as he’s tying the knot, Cobb’s own hands going up, fumbling to help, and that first touch of skin against skin has Din hissing under his breath and hastening to complete it, eager to shed his boots and climb onto the bed and on top of the other man.

“Can’t see anything,” Cobb adjusts the blindfold a bit, tugging the lower edge down further over his nose, “Want to test it?”

“I trust you,” This feels earned. It feels right, too. Din’s being trusted in return, has _been_ trusted, allowed to take care of Cobb a little; let in through that barrier of hard-earned, slightly prickly independence and pride.

With such thoughts in mind, Din rests a knee on the mattress and gets his bare hand under the curve of Cobb’s chin. Tips his head up like that and runs the pad of his thumb over Cobb’s lower lip as the man lets out a breath, startling a little even as he makes a sound of want, his own hand wrapping around Din’s wrist and giving a demanding tug.

“Not yet,” Din sheds his other glove, the vambraces, the other pieces of his armour, unable to keep from touching in snatched moments in between tasks, running his fingers over Cobb’s jaw, grazing the vulnerable underside of his chin, lingering against the other man’s hastening pulse. Cobb’s fingers twitch restlessly against the covers when they’re obliged to let go of Din’s wrist, his head tilted slightly towards the sounds of Din’s undressing, shifting slightly on the bed with anticipation. Trusting him with this too, willing to wait and let Din set the pace.

He looks good like this, still wearing Din’s cape on top of being fully dressed except for his exposed throat, neck bare all the way down to the dip of his shirt, the collar low enough to reveal his clavicle and the top his chest. Din rests his palm there for a moment, just feeling the thrum of Cobb’s heart, and Cobb makes a noise of near protest, fumbling up for Din’s shoulder this time.

It’s needless to say, but Din has no doubt he’ll look even better naked and under him.

“Come on,” Cobb’s opening himself up again, lifting a knee to make room for Din back between his legs. Din gets the underarmour off and then his flightsuit, stripping himself down efficiently and faster now, quick and quiet enough it’s possible the other man doesn’t realise quite how much he removes.

Din doesn’t give him the chance to find out yet, climbing on board and getting himself situated between those thighs, tucking his hand under a knee to hook it up further, relishing Cobb’s groan at both the position and the contact, biting back one of his own. He doesn’t let Cobb feel his weight yet even so, bracing himself on an elbow besides the other man’s head, keeping his other hand free to return to that throat.

“Thought you were going to kiss it better,” That’s a question clear as anything.

“Your ankle?” Din can’t hide his smile, brushing his mouth against the crook of Cobb’s neck, enjoying the gasp it provokes and the way Cobb’s hands fly to Din’s shoulders.

“Shit –” He’s groaning as well, “Shit, you’ve got it off. The helmet.” There’s no need for Din to verbally confirm this given Cobb can feel it; he just sucks a little instead, “A-And –” Cobb’s hands are roving greedily over his shoulders, his back, the parts of Din he can reach, although they don’t venture up higher than the base of his neck, an unasked for consideration that near blocks Din’s own throat, “And you’re not wearing anything.” A pause from Cobb here and, during it, Din presses in against him, slotting their bodies together close enough that he can feel the other man’s cock twitch. Cobb swallows audibly, shuddering, “Are you?”

“Perhaps,” Some hidden impulse rising within him, some unfamiliar urge to tease has Din replying even as he presses a kiss to the spot he just sucked, rubbing his tongue against it after, listening to the growing heaviness of Cobb’s breaths. He carries on like that, paying the length of the man’s neck the attention it deserves until a moan crests and breaks from Cobb’s throat, then making his way leisurely up to Cobb’s jaw and nosing at the beard there, burying a smile in the secret place under Cobb’s ear.

“Still don’t – don’t reckon that’s my ankle,” Cobb gets out a little breathlessly, rocking up under him like he just can’t help it, hard and leaking enough to be noticeable even through the rough fabric of his pants. Din gets a hand down, rubs him there like he’d thought about doing earlier, lifting his weight back up to do so, Cobb’s fingers tightening spasmodically against his shoulders until he near scratches.

“You can touch me here too, if you want,” Din breaks off long enough to coax one up into his hair, leaving the other in place, and then sets about getting the other man’s shirt up under his arms so he can nip at his chest.

“Oh shit,” Cobb jerks all over again when Din finds a nipple. His hand quests greedily over Din’s head, down to the first knobble of backbone and then up and over to the top of his forehead, “You know you have the loveliest hair, right? Far as I can tell.” A breathless laugh in his voice, “Okay for me to pull a little?”

“Like I said,” Tightening his grip around the cock once again twitching under his palm, Din licks the nipple he’s been playing with and then sucks at it until he’s got Cobb squirming, before sliding down further to investigate the other man’s ribs and stomach, “If you want.”

“You know, if _you_ want is more than a mite bit important too,” He gets Cobb insisting, only going ahead when Din nods and nudges his head harder into his hands. He’s near massaging Din’s skull with fingers gone clumsy with want and groaning on every shivering inhalation by the time Din’s paid lingering attention to each of Cobb’s hips and the vee of the line they draw down the top of his trembling thighs. Nibbling the inside of them once the other man’s pants are halfway off and the cape and shirt are on the floor, closing his hand hungrily back over that leaking cock, no more fabric left between it and his palm.

Just the feeling of it has Din’s own arousal abruptly near choking him – it’s been a long time since he touched anyone other than the kid and even then rarely with his gloves off, and Cobb is generously responsive, openly appreciative, slinging his uninjured leg up over Din’s back as Din makes his way down the man’s legs. Concentrating on the injured one, running his free hand lightly down over the other man’s calf, rubbing gently over firm muscle until he reaches the area of concern.

Cobb holds still much as he did earlier as Din carefully unwinds the scarf in order to finish getting his pants off; wincing a little at one point but nodding fervently to go ahead when he pauses.

“Let me bind it back up again,” Din grazes a kiss to the place that seems the most painful as he does as much, alert for any sign he’s causing hurt, desperately hoping it won’t be the case. Gets a “come on, it really ain’t that bad now I’m lying down; get back up here, will you?” in return, although the smile Cobb has for him is heartfelt.

“Hmm,” Din kisses his ankle one more time even so, still very lightly, ensuring he’s angled in a way that won’t risk bumping or jostling it as he turns his attention to moving Cobb’s other foot off his back and doing the same – if less gently – to the other leg, swapping hands on the man’s cock in order to achieve this. Planning on making his way back up as requested after getting to know this part of him a bit better first.

“ _Shit_ ,” Cobb’s stomach jolts as Din wraps his dominant hand around him, the angle a little awkward but more than good enough to rub the pad of his index finger over the slit. Sliding his fingers and thumb over the head of the glans after, enjoying the feel and shape of it, investigating the shaft even as he draws a path with his mouth up the length of Cobb’s leg, biting a little harder at the inside of the man’s thigh this time and feeling fresh precome well up and spill down onto his palm.

It’s enough to ease the slide as Din makes a loose fist, pumping lightly once he shifts back up over Cobb, running his tongue over the nipple he’d earlier neglected and then just burying his face back in against Cobb’s neck. Licking and sucking there as he starts to slowly move his hand more firmly around the other man’s cock, a pace that has Cobb gritting his teeth and trying to push up against him, whining with the effort of keeping his weight off his bad foot.

“You planning to – to go this slow forever?” A twist of Din’s wrist gets a near whimper caught too late behind Cobb’s teeth, a full body shiver breaking out across his skin as Din forces himself to withdraw from Cobb’s neck and angle himself in so he can line them up and hold their cocks together, catching them both in his grip.

“Sorry,” He’s only a little bit sorry in truth. It gets Cobb tugging properly at his hair in retaliation, a sharp burst of sensation that makes Din’s hips jerk. He pushes harder against Cobb without fully intending to as a result, grinding their cocks together when he’d meant to carry on drawing it out at least a little more, if not quite as slowly.

“Come on, come on,” Cobb’s hands are suddenly everywhere except for Din’s face, roaming over his upper arms and his sides, dragging down over Din’s chest to thumb at his nipples as well. Din can’t hold a noise of his own in, can’t keep holding back either, rocking them together even as he cranks his hand down properly, a movement that knocks Cobb’s voice up half an octave in contrast.

“Mm,” There’s something Din wants even as he revels in this; something they haven’t done yet. Licking and kissing the crook of Cobb’s jaw is almost enough, and he gets the other man shoving his hips up almost desperately when Din nips the lobe of Cobb’s ear, experiencing a moment’s alarm that goes thankfully uncalled for when that bad ankle doesn’t appear to protest.

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” His momentary distraction doesn’t go unnoticed, Cobb sliding a hand back into Din’s hair, pulling firmly rather than sharply this time, a long slow stretch of sensation that gets Din’s scalp tingling and his cock jolting as his hand clenches down on them both, a grunt spilling out of him before he can do anything more than vaguely attempt to hold it back.

“ _Fuck,_ ” He’s wound up enough the word hardly makes it out loud.

“You know, that’s a grand idea,” Cobb is talking enough for both of them as it is, even as Din forces himself to relax his hand and let go with no little effort, bringing it up to close over Cobb’s shoulder so he can steady himself as he ducks down again from the crook of Cobb’s jaw to lavish further attention on the other man’s neck. “That’s it,” His head falling even further back, Cobb arches up against him, one hand finding Din’s upper arm and hanging on, “That’s it, just like that.”

“Yeah,” Pressing admiring kisses to Cobb’s throat even as he longs to also kiss that groaning mouth, sucking and gently worrying at a particularly tempting spot, Din puts more into the movement of his hips until other man’s words break off into echoing moans, cursing under his breath as he feels sweat breaking out on his brow. The bed creaking beneath them as his knees skid a little on the sheets, a bit more of his weight than he intends landing on the other man as a result, making Cobb laugh around a huff as their cocks end up momentarily trapped between them, their rhythm thrown off. Both of them chasing the end once Din sorts them back out, tucking his free hand under Cobb’s ass to support as well as encourage his thrusts, taking some of the man’s own weight to further avoid bothering that ankle.

“ _F-fuck_ ,” Cobb’s fingers smooth down from Din’s hair to the rim of his ear, and then he’s caressing Din’s jaw, brushing his fingers through stubble, “Going to kiss me? Please.”

This last word as well as the request ignites something inside Din. He’s gasping _yes_ even as drags his head up to finally kiss the other man, meeting Cobb’s mouth with his own even as he rocks his hips desperately, grinding down hard, feeling a deep shudder of sensation start up in his balls. Unable to maintain the press of their lips or even to really do much about it, orgasm leaping up to claim him until there’s not a single thought left to him.

“Shit, shit, fuck,” He resurfaces in time to hear Cobb gasping out his own orgasm, clutching at Din as he comes, and Din can only kiss him again after, more properly this time if still a little uncoordinated, made clumsy in the aftermath of coming so hard. The feeling of it as Cobb kisses him back good enough that his exhausted cock gives a hopeful twitch all over again.

“Should have done this from the beginning,” Cobb groans in appreciation when Din revisits the little marks he’s left on the other man’s throat, kissing them soothingly, stroking over Cobb’s shoulders, tweaking at a nipple until Cobb drags him back upwards to kiss him hard. The blindfold crumpled but not dislodged, barely remembered if Din’s completely honest, although the thought that it could have accidentally come off sets a flare going off in his belly that he’s too warm and content from the orgasm and the closeness to examine as much as he should; a feeling that’s a fair amount of caution and alarm, but also damningly something very much like want and excitement at the thought of Cobb seeing him.

This should be enough to propel him up off the bed and back into his clothes and his armour; into getting the child and getting out of here fast. As it is, Din lets himself rest his heavy head on the crook of Cobb’s shoulder, sighing in appreciation when the other man’s fingers slide back into his hair.

“Ankle okay?” He has to ask.

“Barely feels like it exists right now, in honesty,” Is the answer, followed by, “You want anything to drink or eat? Don’t think I’ve forgotten you going without dinner.”

“Not now, unless you do,” The thought of either of them moving is decidedly unwelcome, an impression Cobb seems to share given he shakes his head. Swallowing a groan, Din nonetheless forces himself to fish an arm down off the bed to grope for someone’s shirt, getting it between them with a half-hearted grimace of protest from other man, cleaning them both up just enough to be tolerable, “Do you think you can sleep like that?”

“In the blindfold?” Cobb brings a hand up to touch it, doesn’t do anything else, “Yeah, it’s not bothering me. You going to check on the kid?”

“Yeah,” Din’s already peeling himself up decidedly reluctantly, although not because of the child. His body just misses the other man’s already, to an extent he should probably once more feel concerned. Instead he doesn’t seek to prevent himself from melting back down against Cobb once he’s confirmed the child’s still asleep and well.

“That’s better,” Wrestling the covers over them, Cobb muffles a yawn and slings an arm over Din’s chest. “Make the two of you breakfast in the morning,” he promises, and then he’s asleep and snoring lightly just like that.

“All right,” A little amused, Din answers anyway, placing his feet where they shouldn’t bump into Cobb’s bad ankle if he shifts in his sleep, and then lies his head down on the pillow. Just breathing in Cobb’s warmth and closeness as he lets himself relax.


End file.
